


Caught by Different Winds

by Catchclaw



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU - Loki's Always Known His Parentage, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Intersex Loki (Marvel), Lactation Kink, M/M, Pre-Thor (2011), Reunion Sex, Schmoop, The Perils of Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Loki's body prepares for a baby--what Loki himself wants be damned.





	Caught by Different Winds

Loki shoved the door closed behind him and at last allowed himself to acknowledge the pain. His face twisted and the groan he’d held back for what seemed like hours flooded the quiet of his chambers, echoed in angry waves from the walls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed, reaching for the catch of his collar. “Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

The damn thing refused to open, refused to set him free, and in his haste, he shredded the dark green leathers with a loud, jagged tear and any time he might have wasted on mourning the loss of his favorite tunic was swept away by an overwhelming rush of relief as his breasts tumbled free. 

His profane litany started again, sweeter now, from the pure pleasure of their release. He caught them in his palms, stroked them, needing to judge whether the day had truly brought madness, whether his breasts were indeed heavier than they had been mere hours before.

That he had breasts at all--in just the last fortnight--was trying enough; an unpleasant gift from his Jotunheim blood. That his body craved a child, though, had gone so far as to prepare for one? That was simply intolerable.

He’d hoped he’d be spared this. Had believed that he was, as his adolescence, the time that would should have marked his flowering, was long past, now. Long gone. He was old enough to marry, true, old enough to have borne a half-dozen children, if he’d wished, but why his body chose to remember that now, he did not know. And there was no one on Asgard whom he wished to ask.

Odin’s healers, perhaps; they had knowledge of bodies that stretched far beyond this realm. They’d treated Frost Giants before, or so legends went; indeed, it was from their tomes that, as a child, he’d learned what might lay ahead, what transformations the future might hold. He couldn’t bring himself to speak to them, then, but had he gone to them now, the healers would’ve kept his council, kept his secret to themselves. Probably.

He might have gone, too, to his mother, the only among the Aesir who he knew would never betray him. If there was an answer to be found on Asgard, in the palace or beyond, Frigga would have done all she could to find it, played every chit she held in her capable hands. Which was why he could not go to her, of course; to have her spend her capital as queen for him, he who was not her blood-son, for such a reason as this was unthinkable. Too selfish a thought, even for him. 

And so, he’d borne his troubles alone.

He’d determined how to bind himself, how to nip in his new curves with soft cloth carefully wrapped. He’d begun to wear his robes more loosely than he liked, draping himself in shimmering folds that drew more eyes than he wanted, brought unwanted attention to his heels. Thor’s companions, mostly, cheered at the chance to find novel ways to annoy him, new reasons to tease and tug at his patience until he had to bite his tongue blood so as not to respond. For handing their jests back, cutting them down at the quick, only served to encourage them, to fan the flames of their idiocy and jab at him all the more.

Or so it had been until a few days before, when Thor had stopped in the middle of supper to set his friends to rights.

“Fandral,” he’d said, in the voice that summoned thunder, “enough. Leave Loki be.”

The whole table went silent, from the servants to the last warrior, and the quiet that hung in the air seemed to crackle and hiss.

“My lord,” Fandral said, in his smooth drunken slur, “I’ve said nothing to injure him. Nothing unfair, hmmm? Of course I haven’t. I was merely commenting upon his unwillingness to eat. It concerns me. Doesn’t it, Hogun?”

Hogun had looked distinctly uneasy, as if he had to stop himself from edging away. “Ah, he meant no harm, Thor. He’s said nothing of consequence.”

Thor stared at him, at them, and Loki could see his fist twitching. Never a good sign.

“He’s said enough, as have all of you at one time or another.” Thor cut his eyes around, left no room for misunderstanding. “I will not have you treat my brother in this way. In my presence or out of it. Is that clear?" 

Sif’s eyes were wide, but hers was the expression most carefully schooled; she was the only one, Loki thought, smart enough to understand that sometimes, the best victory lay in retreat. 

She dipped her head low and stood. “My lord,” she said. “We’re sorry that we’ve offended. If you’ll excuse us, we’ll take our leave.”

“What?” Volstagg said through a mouthful of mead. “No we won’t! I’m not finished yet.”

Sif cuffed him by the collar and pulled him from his seat. “You are,” she said firmly. “And so are we all.”

When the lot of them had gone, Loki said: “You needn’t have done that. I’m quite capable of fending for myself.” 

Thor tilted his head, filled up Loki’s glass. “Have I offended you?”

“No, indeed not. I’m grateful.”

Thor’s hand had slipped up to Loki’s hair and pushed a long strand from his face, wound it neatly behind Loki’s ear. “I should’ve done it long ago,” he said. “Should have told them to keep their peace. Truly, it’s I who owe you an apology.” He smiled, a slim, boyish thing. “Anyway, I like the way that you’ve chosen to dress. Not that you need my approval. But your clothes, they, ah—they make you look as if you’re walking on the wind." 

He’d had a mad thought then, wild: perhaps Thor was the one who could help him. 

How he might or why he would, Loki wasn’t certain, and he knew it wasn’t reason that spoke to him, nor logic, but for a moment, reaching out to his brother seemed like the only solution; the best. 

And yet, with the next pump of his heart, he knew that to do so would be foolish. He’d only embarrass them both. There were things that he and Thor did not talk about and matters of the flesh were one, with good reason. Discussing even so strange a problem as this would take them uncomfortably close to territory they’d fenced off long ago: kisses once stolen, hands that once touched, pleasure they’d once found only in the other. The follies of lost days, now locked away in their past.

Besides, there was a reason he’d not shared the pitfalls of his biology with Thor when he’d first discovered them, when they were children--it would have been yet another way they were different and surely, surely, they were already different enough.

If Loki leaned into Thor’s fingers a little, or if Thor let them linger too long, that was warning enough. To ask for more would be too much.

So he’d said nothing that night as they lingered over the last of their dinner. Had spent another long stretch of dark with sleep elusive, chased away by the never-ending ache in his chest.

And if, when he finally slept, he’d dreamed of his brother’s hands there, leaching out the pain with his palms, with the soft turn of his mouth--that, too, was Loki’s secret to keep.

 

****

 

In his chambers, he tossed the ruined tunic aside and stumbled to his bed, sat down on it, sighed. For the pressure had lessened, yes, but the pain had not disappeared; rather, it had become something different: less a steady ache than a strange sense of weight.

He cupped his breasts again, testing, and yes, they did seem heavier than they had just that morning when he’d dressed for court, for the long, interminable day of fealty and public obeisance that had been as dull as he’d feared. As the end of Odin’s reign drew near, the old man’s need for adoration had steadily increased; he needed, Loki thought, not so much to feel love but to be seen being loved. It was an old insecurity that the centuries had not healed, so why the All-Father thought yet another ceremony of adulation might at last be the one that appeased him, Loki could not fathom. That he’d been forced to wear his leathers all day—for what Odinson could appear in public without some sort of warrior guise?--had only made the occasion more odious and, to his great dismay, much more uncomfortable.

Indeed, he’d swayed on his feet towards the end, as the last of the golden soldiers processed and preened before the dais and knelt in front of the All-Father’s throne. He felt top heavy, strangled and sick, and if Thor had not noticed, had not steadied him with one broad hand spread at the base of his back, he would have toppled over, gone straight down the stairs and bowled over half a dozen of Odin’s finest, ignominious. 

“Are you well?” Thor whispered. He stepped behind Loki, slipped his hand to a hip and bid Loki lean against him, to give over some of his weight.

“I’m fine.”

His brother had chided him softly: “Loki, you are the color of the first snow." 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Loki insisted, for he did feel a bit better with Thor’s steadiness to lean against. “Don’t make a scene, Thor. He’ll raise such a fucking fuss we’ll be here till supper.”

“And there would not be one were you to fall? I think Mother would have my head. There’d be nothing left for Odin to pick at.” He tucked Loki closer. “Be still now.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he and Thor had stood like this, hip to hip, as if even the air could not come between them, and perhaps that is why it softened him, their proximity, why his breasts filled with a different sort of tightness even as it turned the core of him molten.

The moment the ceremony ended, he had bolted like a startled colt and fled back to his rooms-- the only place in the palace where he could free himself--and now, only now, was he finding it easy to breathe. 

He slid his thumbs over his nipples, a mindless exploration, but the feeling brought him up short, made him gasp. Not only did his own touch feel divine, but the tips of his nipples were wet, like dew drops after a storm, and they grew more so as he teased them. A sliver of sensation struck and he moaned, sent his shoulders shaking, and--

Suddenly, there was a pounding at his door, the echo of a familiar fist, too quick, and before Loki could cover himself or call out a warning, the door flew open and his brother strode in, uninvited, unbidden. And most fucking unwelcome.

“Loki,” he said urgently, “you--”

And then his words stopped. As did his eyes.

“If you’re going to stare,” Loki snarled, panic welling in his throat, “at least close the damn door.”

Thor took a step back and did so, his gaze never falling astray. “Brother,” he said, “what in the name of Bor has happened to you?" 

To his horror, Loki found his face heating. “My body,” he said, “has chosen to betray me.”

“Is it a spell gone awry, or--?”

“It’s nothing of the sort. It’s my”--he closed his eyes for a moment, tried to make his voice come out steady--"shall we say, it’s a legacy of my true heritage.” 

Thor’s face was a frown. “I don’t understand.” 

Loki gritted his teeth. “My idiotic body thinks it wants to have a baby, Thor, any and all of my preferences be damned. It’s the way of Frost Giants that some among them--among _us_ \--shift in this way when as we mature.” He laughed, short and hollow. “Truth be told, this should have come in my adolescence, if at all, but for some reason, some long-silent clock inside my cells has chosen to ring now, whether I fucking like it or not, and I can’t will myself otherwise. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Ah,” Thor said, “ah, I see.”

Tears pricked at Loki’s eyes and gods, he was tired, tired and sore, tired and sore and exasperated by this conversation, by Thor’s utter disregard for his privacy.

“Do you now?” he spat. “How lovely for you.”

Thor voice fell to a whisper, words cast out as careful as petals made of glass. “Loki,” he said, “I see now that the very sight of you makes me crave.”

It was as if time itself stopped, the passing of the hours halted between the beats of Loki’s heart.

“What?”

Thor moved towards him, intent, but not so fast that Loki could not have sprung free had he wished, could not have rushed himself towards the door. Why in all the Realms, though, should he want to, when there was such a look of adoration on his brother’s face? A face that was suddenly even with his, for Thor’s knees were on the floor, buried in the soft furs that ran the length of Loki’s bed.

“For your beautiful burdens,” Thor said, in that same ragged voice, “I fear relief will not come from my eyes alone.”

Loki’s mouth was all at once dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” The tips of ten fingers found the bottoms of his breasts. “You are full, Loki. To the very brim. Can you not feel it?” 

The tease of that touch was too much. It made Loki feel infinite and yet so very small, as if all his nerves and sense had been narrowed to those points of connection. He couldn’t think clearly. Could not think at all.

“What I feel is you, brother,” he heard his mouth say.

Thor chuckled and took Loki’s breasts in his hands, and, oh, oh, damn him: he _squeezed_. Loki wailed as the crush of tension there eased and at all once, Thor’s wrists were wet, the air damp with the soft scent of milk.

A wave of embarrassment took him again, swept him under, but Thor hummed something soft and vaguely familiar and kissed his mouth, slow, the kind of steady, unyielding kiss that chased away the last vestiges of Loki’s discontent. Because oh, gods. Had he missed this. 

There was no question but that he was leaking, that his nipples were far more than simply slick, and when Thor’s fingers found them, pinched, the sound that flew out of Loki was made up of pure want.

“How long?” Thor murmured against his lips. “How long have you been like this?”

“A fortnight or so since I first noticed something awry. Only a day or so, _oh_ ”--the stroke of Thor’s thumbs--“that they’ve felt like this, though. Felt this heavy. I didn’t know why, I had no idea that they’d--"

Thor’s mouth tumbled over his jaw, tucked itself against Loki’s throat. “Two weeks, did you say?”

“Or thereabouts. Why?”

“Because,” Thor said, “your scent shifted then, too.”

“My scent?” Loki laughed. “I always thought you were part wolf.”

He felt Thor smile. “It’s part of you,” he said simply. “Like the color of your eyes, the pallor of your skin. And for the life of me, I could not figure out why it had changed. Nor could I have guessed it was for any reason as lovely as this.” He squeezed Loki’s breast again, the right one, and it made Loki feel like a ricochet. “It made me see you again, that shift,” Thor said, “to look more closely, to pay attention to you as I have not done in ages. And I found that I yearned for you, still, as I did so long ago.” 

Loki swallowed. He wasn’t sure what was more overwhelming: the feel of his brother’s body or the words that sprang from his heart. “Oh,” he managed.

“Now,” Thor said, his breath deliciously hot, “would you please let me relieve you, brother?”

Loki skimmed a hand through his brother’s hair, held it. “That depends. What is it would you do?”

Thor drew back, grinning, and ducked his head down, kissed the curve of first one breast, then the other. “Let me suck you,” he said. “I will drink in all that you’d give me.”

Desire wound up Loki’s spine, each bone in his body a bloom. He stroked Thor’s face and somehow, found his voice again, bold: “Oh. Are you hungry, then?” 

Thor nuzzled Loki’s wrist, licked at the wings of his pulse. “My mouth waters for you.”

“Then come,” Loki said. “and take your fill.”

He expected Thor’s teeth, and then a strong suck, but instead, Thor gave each nipple an insolent, delicate lick. 

“Like that?” Thor asked.

“Harder,” Loki said.

A kiss, the brush of a butterfly. “Hmm. Like this?”

Loki hissed, his back bowing in a frantic arch. “No. _Harder_.”

“But you taste so good.” Another kiss, a flick of his tongue. “Perhaps I want to savor you. Who knows if this gift will ever come again? I should enjoy every drop I can gather.”

Loki’s head fell back and he shoved his chest forwards, tried to pulled Thor into it, thick. “You are an insufferable tease.”

Thor hummed, the sound electric. “Do you want me stop?”

“No!” Loki said. “No, don’t you--!" 

“Shhhh,” Thor said, and then his teeth closed gently  and Loki felt the rush of milk from within him an instant before he heard Thor moan, a sound that would have shattered starlight.

“Suck,” Loki said. A command cleaved by a plea. “You want more of that, don’t you? Do you like that? Does that taste good?”

Another moan, the clutch of Thor’s hands on Loki’s hips, the twitch of his lips.

Loki leaned in, pressed his breasts against Thor’s face. “Then take it from me,” he said. “Take all that you want from me. Please.”

He whimpered, did Thor, the great willful beast, and set his mouth to work again and the pressure was delicious now, heartbreaking, whipping up pleasure that poured down Loki’s body and pooled between his thighs.

“Ah, fuck,” he sighed, “fuck, brother. Yes, _yes_. You’re making me feel so good.” 

A growl, a groan, and Thor’s nails bit his hips, holding Loki steady as he sucked and swallowed and drank and gods, the sound of him wet and desperate, the sight of his mouth muddled white, made Loki’s cock jump, his cunt feel exquisitely tight. He lifted his legs and wound them around his brother’s body and Thor whined, dragged his lips from one nipple to the other and started all over again. 

Loki’s hands went fist in Thor’s hair and his eyes closed and there was nothing except the heat of his brother’s tongue and the strange, beautiful feeling of milk leaving his body. He felt ravished, as if he were melting, as if Thor’s mouth were a foundry, and he clung to Thor, scrabbled at his shoulders and dug in his fingers and poured out all he had, all that he was, watched his love lick it all up.

“Please,” he said, he whispered, he sang. “Please, Thor. Please.”

Thor reached down and freed them both, the steady suck of his mouth never ceasing, and when he tugged Loki from the bed and onto his lap, Loki took him in in a quick, soundless slide.

“Oh fuck,” Thor whispered as Loki trembled on the tip of his dick. “Oh, fuck. I’ve missed you, love.”

He led Loki to the heights twice before he reached for his own and when he came, splashed hot all over Loki’s belly, he cried out as he had when they were young--a bellow that knew no bounds--and when his head fell back, Loki saw that his beard was threaded with white, his smile a sight that would have split any darkness.

Later, as they lay entwined in Loki’s bed, Thor said: “Why did we stop this?”

“Hmm?” Loki kissed his chin, the rough scratch of his throat. “Stop what?” 

“This. Being what we were to one another, long ago.”

Loki considered that. “I suppose,” he said finally, “I’ve always thought that we drifted apart. Two boats on the same lake but caught by different winds.”

“I was afraid that I pushed you away.”

“Perhaps you did, a bit. But I pushed you, too.”

Thor nuzzled the top of Loki’s head, breathed into its crown. “We were young and foolish then.”

“Or,” Loki said, “we weren’t truly ready for one another yet.” He sat up a little, reached out and traced the planes of his brother’s face, his fingers a feather. “Perhaps we thought we were, but the universe knew we needed more time. Though I’ve rarely known the universe to be so wise. Or so kind.”

Thor smoothed a hand through Loki’s hair and smiled, small and sweet. “Well,” he said, “there’s a first time for everything.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ...I have no excuse for this.


End file.
